Flourishing Diction
by A Paper Moon
Summary: With each and every passing day, their vocabulary increases one-fold. A word for every season and occasion. Based on the New York Times’ article, ‘Word of the Day.’ All Couples Explored. The word of the day is 'GOAD'; Pairing is Tamaki and Haruhi.
1. Enigmatic

Ciao! :) This is _Flourishing Diction_, a drabble-of-sorts that will be updated on a semi-regular basis. It encompasses the lives—pre/post-OHSCH and in AUs—of the hosts and those associated with them through the _New York Times'_ article, 'Word of the Day.' Each chapter is non-related to those prior to (or afterwards of) others unless previously noted. I hope that those who read will enjoy—and maybe share those views. :P Just for clarification, **all pairings will be used in this story at one point **including Hikaru|Kaoru and others. **If you wish to request a pairing, please PM me or say so in a review.**

**Disclaimer: **Any and all characters of Ouran High School Host Club belong to Bisco Hatori-san. I allege no possession of the characters. I do not own the New York Times, either. Please excuse an grammatical-slash-spelling errors (or point them out; that's fine. XD) and, if there are any lapses in characters, plot, or cannon (unless specified by **AU**), please let me know.

**Pairing(s):**Hitachiin Karou|Fujioka Haruhi  
Please enjoy.

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_flourishing_ **diction**

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enigmatic \e•(,)nig•'ma•tik\  
_adjective_

**1:** of, relating to, or resembling an enigma: MYSTERIOUS

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When he first saw her, he would've sworn she was one of the guys. With her cropped-hair, large, baggy sweatshirt, and thick glasses, she was every part the quite, introverted, 'nerd.' However, as one by one, they uncovered the various layers wrapped around her androgynous appearance, they began to realize that, indeed, she wasn't a man. That, nevertheless, was not the important factor.

After the shattering of the priceless vase, her demure behavior slowly washed away revealing a vibrant, opinionated, young woman with every intention of paying off her debts and leaving, not sparing a single look back. Through their boisterous, elaborate parties, he watched her from the corner of the couch were he was regularly perched beneath his brother's weight. The squeals and cries of admiration weren't enough to distract him from her lithe form. Even when Hikaru would bring his face within millimeters of his own, hazel eyes never budged.

She was like a puzzle to him; always there in pieces but, when he tried to put her together, he felt as if there was something missing. She would smile at the girls surrounding her table, retelling to them some bs story about truth and love and hopes and unfading dreams. It was such a shame she never took her own advice. To be happy and content with life, to find the one who made your heart beat sporadically—such a shame. The false grins she gave those mushy fangirls were practically enough to make him feel sick to his stomach. And then, they'd leave, all of them, tears spilling down cheeks as they were nearly shoved out of the music room. Occasionally, one would shout their undying affections to a host before the heavy doors slammed shut. They would give over dramatic sighs of relief and then proceed to clean up. When no one was looking—that's when she dropped the facade and became herself. Dark, tired eyes lost their plastic-like sparkle, lips relaxed in a gentle line and she became real to him.

Weeks later, they decided to host a royalty-themed party, where Tamaki-senpai ruled, Honey-senpai, a young prince, was being guarded by Mori-senpai, Kyoya-senpai was the king's adviser, he and his brother were jesters, and she... she was dressed as the majestic, untouchable queen—of course. To see Tamaki-senpai hold onto her in a possessive manner made him cringe. She just laughed and brushed him off as usual. The ladies girlishly giggled and gasped in awe, money was made, and everyone left happily.

The themes changed from 'Cowboys and Indians,' to Indiana Jones, to 'Under the Sea,' but she slipped through each event the same; wide smile, bright eyes, and endless charm. How was she able to do such a thing when he, himself, was breaking? Her mysteriously attractive nature drew girls in by the dozen yet, when he was near, she hardly gave him a second glance.

Slowly, their time together drew to an end and graduation approached. He watched her walk across the oak-stage, her face truly beaming for one of the first times. With a shake of hands and the deliverance of a diploma, she was gone—into the crowd, into the world, out of his reach.

She rarely spoke to any of them again until their reunion a decade later. Once again, he was there, viewing her from afar. Her hair was longer, her features a tad more sculpted but she was still the same Haruhi he'd known and loved all those years ago. Now, she was with her boyfriend, some writer for some magazine. She'd always wanted to date an artistic man, she'd said. At that moment, he had the urge to scream, "Why not me, then?" He loved fashion, like his mother and brother and craved art in ways seemingly unnatural. And yet, she left him and found herself some older man with soft fuzz upon his chin and a pair of thin spectacles.

When his brother came and took him by the elbow, he knew it was time to head home. Again, he watched her go only this time, it was _he_ who was leaving. Their gazes locked for a split second and she offered him a small smile—he found he couldn't do the same. She was mystifying in every plausible mean; cryptic and baffling and breathtaking and perplex and he loved it—would _always_ love it. But, like a shadow amidst a dark alley, she was there one second, and gone the next. Like a trick of the eyes, she hauntingly stood with her date before slinking away into the darkness, forever shrouded in mystery.

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Please drop a reivew if you have time. Grazie. :)


	2. Volatile

_Flourishing Diction _encompasses the lives—pre/post-OHSCH and in AUs—of the hosts and those associated with them through the _New York Times'_ article, 'Word of the Day.' Each chapter is non-related to those prior to (or afterwards of) others unless previously noted. I hope that those who read will enjoy—and maybe share those views. :P Just for clarification, **all pairings will be used in this story at one point **including Hikaru|Kaoru and others. **If you wish to request a pairing, please PM me or say so in a review.**

**Disclaimer:**Any and all characters of Ouran High School Host Club belong to Bisco Hatori-san. I allege no possession of the characters. I do not own the New York Times, either. Please excuse an grammatical-slash-spelling errors (or point them out; that's fine. XD) and, if there are any lapses in characters, plot, or cannon (unless specified by **AU**), please let me know. I do own the un-named doctor, however.

**Pairings(s): **Hitachiin Hikaru|Fujioka Haruhi  
Enjoy this **AU** treat! :D

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_flourishing_ **diction**

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volatile \väl•o•t'l\  
_adjective_

**1:** characterized by or subject to rapid or unexpected change

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"Hitachiin-san," a soft voice called out. The owner of said voice was sitting patiently behind his desk, learned eyes watching her warily, gauging her reaction.

"..." She stayed silent for a few extensive minutes. Her large, doe-eyed expression said it all: she was scared beyond a reasonable doubt. As she clutched to her purse in an anxious manner, the man quickly glanced around his room for a box of tissues—he felt an enormous bout of emotions ready to spring forward at any moment and he wanted desperately to be prepared. From the young to the older-on, he had always been educated in the ways of preparation. Never smile or give a sigh of relief until one is sure, always show encouragement if it is deemed necessary, never become overly emotional with another, and never, ever offer opinions or advice—_ever!_ However, through all of his years of schooling, he hadn't been taught how to deal with this particular explosion of a response.

"Are you serious?" It began smoothly, like most of the questions he received. Opening his mouth to give the usual, practiced response, he was taken aback by the rage that burned behind her surly gaze.

"This is a joke, right?" she almost spat—the sarcasm laced through her words clearly evident. Her eyes narrowed in a challenge.

"Hita-Hitachiin-san..."

"What am I supposed to do? Hmm?" The pale hands that were grasping the leather straps of her bag were becoming white-knuckled with her sudden fury. Blood rushed to her cheeks in a speedy fashion and blue eyes widened in true, honest fear for his life. This young woman—she had to be in her mid-twenties, if that—was transforming into a rather frightening-looking prospect.

Clearing his throat, he tried to calm her down, "Now, it's okay to be afraid—"

"Afraid?! You think I'm afraid?" She was standing now; her red handbag on the floor, forgotten. Two hands slammed upon the mahogany desk and he visibly jumped in shock. Not in a million years had he thought one would act like this—she had seemed so quiet and demure; her petite frame and short hair giving her the appearance of a shy, young woman. Well that clearly wasn't the case, now was it?

As he racked his brain for a way to pacify the angered woman, he stopped when he noticed her eyes' watery-sheen. Following this observation, he spotted a trembling lip and slightly pursed mouth—tale-tell signs that the sensations coursing through her were not dander, but rather, a deeper emotion: worry.

"Hitachiin-san...?"

Bowing her head as to hid her face, she mumbled, "I-I don't know what to do..." She sounded tired and lost and for a brief second, he wanted to warp his arms around her quivering body and comfort her. Remembering rule number three, he decided against it.

"Ne, Hitachiin-san, do you want it?" Right now, he could see his professor glaring at him from behind spectacles—rule number two!

She snapped up, eyes large searching his. "...Yes." Her answer was soft and he almost had to strain to hear it.

"So," he pressed on cautiously, "what is the problem?" He could hear her inhaling deeply before replying:

"Ano, what if he doesn't?"

If it weren't for their current situation, he would've scoffed. Why were woman always worried about this same things? Every time, it was always the same—_him._ On various occasions, he had wanted to meet this 'him' and throw a well-deserved punch his way.

"Than he isn't worth it."

"N-Nani?"

"Hitachiin-san, if I may, for the mere twenty-three minutes I've known you, I've realized that you are a kind yet, somewhat sporadic woman—but mostly kind. If he is a flake, than you shouldn't worry about him at all. This is solely your decision and no one else's."

Sitting now, she picked her bag from the floor and laid it precariously in her lap.

"But..."

"You know, I've only just told you now. He has no idea does he?" He almost wanted to grin at the way in which he spoke to

her. It was if he was coaxing an obvious answer from a small child.

"Iie, I—"

"Then why don't you help him out, okay? Just tell him. I promise, everything will work itself out."

She let the words sink in awhile before nodding; she'd tell him tonight, when it was just the two of them.

"Good. Well then," he sighed—screw the rules!—and rifled through a few folders before handing a copy of the tests to her to show to her spouse later, "I believe that's about all. I'll have Aria-san set you up with your next appointment, okay? Feel free to call if you need anything." Both parties rose to shake hands and he showed her to the door, a smile on his face. This time, her features mirrored his own and a sudden, giddy feeling washed over her.

She, Hitachiin Haruhi, was going to be a mother and her husband was going to be happy, darn it!

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Please drop a reivew if you have the time. Grazie. :D


	3. Goad

_Flourishing Diction _encompasses the lives—pre/post-OHSCH and in AUs—of the hosts and those associated with them through the _New York Times'_ article, 'Word of the Day.' Each chapter is non-related to those prior to (or afterwards of) others unless previously noted. I hope that those who read will enjoy—and maybe share those views. :P Just for clarification, **all pairings will be used in this story at one point **including Hikaru|Kaoru and others. **If you wish to request a pairing, please PM me or say so in a review.**

**Disclaimer:**Any and all characters of Ouran High School Host Club belong to Bisco Hatori-san. I allege no possession of the characters. I do not own the _New York Times_, either. Please excuse any grammatical-slash-spelling errors (or point them out; that's fine. XD) and, if there are any lapses in characters, plot, or cannon (unless specified by **AU**).

**Pairings(s): **Suoh Tamaki|Fujioka Haruhi

Please enjoy.

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_flourishing_ **diction**

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goad \gōd\  
_verb_

**1:** the act of urging someone or something on: SPUR

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"Mon chéri, I was thinking—"

"Shut it, Tamaki-senpia."

The blonde 'king' was taken aback by her sudden mood change. She was just smiley with her attendees a moment before so, why was she so snappy all of a sudden. Feeling dejected, Suoh Tamaki crawled into a nearby corner and assumed the fetal position.

"Oi, Kaoru, what's the deal with Tamaki-dono? He seems sad," Hikaru whispered after pulling his twin aside. The younger Hitachiin only motioned to their newest host, Fujioka Haruhi. The androgynous-looking woman was tugging at the thick kimono that she was forced to wear. Hikaru nodded in understanding and the twins proceeded to the to adjoining bathroom to clean their faces of the ridiculous makeup.

Though young in appearance, Mitsukuni Honey was rather incitive when it came to his fellow hosts. Large, brown eyes watched Haruhi and Tamaki as the latter of the two purposefully avoided the brooding Frenchman. His cousin plucked him from the ground mumbling, "Let's go." Honey nodded and snatched a cake from a nearby table before they disappeared, the music room only have three occupants now.

Ootori Kyoya pushed his glass up the bridge of his nose, all the while scribbling upon his clipboard. When he realized that neither of the remaining hosts were going to acknowledge his presence, he too exited the room.

The thick silence was practically unbearable and Haruhi grunted in both awkwardness and frustration presented by the heavy sleeves of her attire. Her hair extensions were snagged in the collar and the young woman felt like screaming—she realized that would cause a commotion so she decided not to. Sneaking a peak from the corner of her eye, she noted that Tamaki was still crouched near the wall, his head lying atop his bent knees. It almost looked like he was sleeping; he was hardly moving. She sighed as an internal battle waged insider her: To go to Tamaki or to not go? Comprehending the fact that she probably wouldn't be allowed to leave until they both talked, she shrugged one of the arms of the robe over her shoulder, kicked off the insufferable sandals, and gingerly approached him. If he heard her, he made no motion.

'_This is one of his worst tantrums to date,' _she thought dryly to herself. Haruhi cleared her throat and still the Frenchman did not respond.

'_If that's the way he wants to play this...' _Haruhi sighed loudly and made a large raucous of gathering her things. She nearly threw her school bag on the floor and shoved her uniform noisily inside. Nothing.

The young woman coughed boisterously. Zero reactions.

She ripped the hair strands from her head, yelping when she jerked too hard. Nope.

Haruhi wrenched the zipper of her bag closed, the loud sound doing nothing to capture Tamaki's attention. Well, if he didn't want to talk to her, she figured she had no point in staying any longer. Dramatically, she took one languid step after another, her lethargic gait seeming out of place compared to her usual, graceful stride. She turned to look at the sulking, young man and, once she did, she realized that she wasn't paying attention to what was behind her.

In a flurry of movements and sounds, she was falling, brown eyes wide in fear. The shattering of glass shocked Tamaki—she wouldn't break things for his attention, _would she_?—and he spun to see Haruhi tripping over the tall base of the Tiffany-shaded floor lamp. Lavender-eyes snapped open and he shot from his position on the floor.

Her bag long forgotten, Haruhi flailed in an attempt to grab onto something to steady herself. Luckily, her thin fingers found another hand and she held on for dear life.

Tamaki clutched to her fingers and threw his other arm around her waist. Quickly, he turned his body as to cushion her landing, the hand that was once grasping hers now behind her head to protect her. Both their eyes locked for a second and then her's shut, her eyebrows furrowed in expectancy.

The young woman was scared but, when she saw golden-locks and periwinkle-orbs, she felt a sudden flooding of security. She tightly closed her eyes and wound her arms around his waist, practically molding themselves together. And then, with a muffled jolt, their bodies collided into the floor.

Haruhi's head seemed to be swimming and she groggily opened her eyes to see Tamaki glancing worriedly up at her. Though it didn't happen often, she felt a hot blush rushing to her face at their contact. He, however, wasn't aware of this and he lifted a hand to her cheek appearing to be looking for any injuries.

"Haruhi, are you okay?" His voice was soft and full of concern—an oddity for the narcissistic man. She dumbly nodded and they laid there on the floor for a few minutes. Finally regaining a logical mind, she rose from his careful embrace and sat up next to him. Tamaki propped himself upon an elbow and looked at her, a laughing smile pulling at his lips. Noticing this Haruhi quipped, "What's so funny?"

Humming, he replied, "Just the fact that you want me _so _bad."

She sputtered, outraged and yelled, "You jerk! I do _not_ want you!"

"Well then, mon chéri, then why did you go to all that work to get my attention, hmm?" His eyes were sparkling—a phrase she completely detested—and he was snickering now.

"I-I...!" She was at a loss for words; his face was inches from her and he was poking fun at her but, honestly, she was beside herself. The close proximity was doing horrendous things to her stomach and face and she was enraged that her body was falling so gratuitously for the young man. She scolded her heart for hammering within her chest and chided her lungs for not working properly—humans needed _way_ more air than what she was receiving.

"Haruhi..." he breathed.

This was preposterous! She was more rational than to be throwing herself at him. He was a playboy with whom she did not want to get entangled with. Yet, as she berated herself, she could feel her face leaning in more to his. In only moments, she could swear that they would be kissing.

'_No! Come on, stop this!'_

Her limbs were refusing to listen to her demands and her eyelids slid partially close.

Seconds were left as they lessened the gap between them; three inches... two inches... one—

"Crap!"

They pulled apart so fast, Haruhi knew that she had to have gotten a mild case of whiplash. Flustered, they sat yards apart, their bodies turned in opposite directions.

"Hikaru-baka!" his twin shouted back. The oldest was pushing himself from the floor only to have a foot slam into his skull. In a manner that was unusual for him, Kaoru was glaring menacingly down at Hikaru.

"You idiot! They were so close but no, you had to fall and yell and make a scene!" Kaoru stepped over his fallen brother and stormed off. Hikaru recovered quickly and, calling after his brother, he ran out of the music room.

Haruhi giggled quietly, muttering, "Those boys will never change."

"Yeah," Tamaki agreed.

Once again, a thick blanket of silence enveloped the two. Haruhi stood and Tamaki did the same. They met at the door and, in a manner of chivalry, he held the door open for her. In a sweeping bow, he motioned for her to exit. Though he was back to his dramatic persona, Haruhi felt like something was off.

"Tamaki-senpai?"

"Another time. One of the days," he whispered. Silently, they agreed not discuss the incident but, in a more cryptic fashion, they pondered the idea of repeating the offense. And, in the back of her mind, Haruhi was sure that the other hosts would weasel their way into their business and try to set them up again.

'_Let them try,' _she mused. Tamaki and herself would be ready for their next scheme.

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Review if you have the time, per favore. Grazie! :)


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